Replacement Baby

by Mary Ann Smart

  Rose raised her eyebrows at these figures. “Crazy!” she commented.

  “I find it all really fascinating,” he said. “Sometimes I read about that sort of thing happening in Paris or Brussels, too. I was reading something about how they think it’s the same ring of jewel thieves who’ve been robbing these little shops over the years. In fact, the evidence has led the authorities to believe that this same group has been robbing jewelry shops in London, Paris, Brussels, and New York for over twenty years! But I remember something about how they’ve been committing robberies more often in the past five years. And they think that an insider at the shops could be involved, or something. Can’t remember.”

  “That sounds pretty cool,” Rose said, more out of politeness than anything. While that sort of thing sounded very mysterious, she was more interested in finding out where in the country her birth mother had relocated to. They left the jewelry store window and continued walking.

  “Well, here’s the pub I mentioned,” Lionel said. They entered through a bright red door into a building, which was on the same street as the jewelry shop.

  Inside, the two friends ordered lunch. After giving their order to the waiter, they chatted casually. Rose took a deep breath. I’ll tell him. I’ll go ahead and tell him everything.

  “Okay, so I’m going to tell you something,” Rose began. “But I’d rather keep it between us for now. It’s a crazy story, and I don’t want everyone to think I’m a weirdo. I am trusting you.”

  “Okay, I promise to keep a secret,” Lionel swore.

  Rose started her story, beginning with the secret box under the floorboards. Lionel’s eyes grew wide as plates when Rose told him that she suspected her own adopted mother of kidnapping her.

  “So you really think she’s a kidnapper?” He asked.

  “Well, it’s the only way that it makes sense,” Rose replied. “The baby photograph with my name on it isn’t of me. It couldn’t be. That baby doesn’t even look like me. I looked like the baby in the newspaper clippings when I was young. The missing one. It makes sense, right?”

  “I guess so,” said Lionel hesitantly. “I mean, yes, it seems like it does. But how can you be so certain about this? You seem overly confident.”

  “Well, I guess I can’t be sure, really. But it makes sense. How else would you explain the baby photo with my name with the dark haired baby?” Rose looked at him, imploringly.

  “Yes, I guess that’s true,” Lionel said. “But who is the baby in the picture if it’s not you?”

  “That’s a good question.” Rose shook her head. “I don’t know. I honestly have no clue.”

  “Go on with your story, then.”

  Rose explained to Lionel her real name, and that she had decided to go by Rose Porter instead of Lisa Porter as she started a new life for herself. Lionel was understanding. Rose told him her fear of her mother coming after her and finding her in London.

  “Why don’t you just report her to the authorities?” Lionel asked. “Then you won’t have to worry so much.”

  “I don’t know,” Rose answered. “I guess maybe I should. But she was still the only mother I’ve ever known. I don’t want any harm to come to her. I don’t want her thrown in jail or anything. I just want her to leave me alone. Actually, I think I would be fine if I never saw her again.”

  The pair continued to talk. People came and went all around them, but Lionel and Rose scarcely seem to notice. An elderly couple sat down nearby and ordered tea. A young man in a light colored coat sat down at the table beside theirs. Through the bustling atmosphere of the pub, Rose and Lionel’s conversation continued.

  “Pardon me,” came a male voice behind Rose, interrupting Lionel mid-sentence. She glanced back. It was the young man sitting at the table near them. He was holding up a pen and flashing a flawless, charming smile.

  “Yes?” Rose asked.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but I believe you dropped this.” He extended his hand toward her, the pen in his palm.

  Rose stared at the pen with curiosity. I did not look familiar, but she thanked him graciously so as not to seem rude. She smiled.

  “Hey, you’re an American, aren’t you?” The young man asked, his voice excited. Clearly, judging by his accent, he was an American, too.

  “Yes, I am!” Rose exclaimed with a smile.

  “Where are you from in the States?” He asked with enthusiasm. “I’m from a small town in Iowa,” he volunteered.

  “New York,” Rose replied vaguely, hoping he wouldn’t ask for additional details about where she came from. She was still suspicious of strangers because of her paranoia of Mother coming after her.

  She and the young man began talking, comparing life in America to London. Lionel sat back with his arms folded over his chest. Appearing irritated, he said nothing. Rose did not want to be rude to the her new acquaintance, so she ignored Lionel’s annoyance. The young man told her that he was twenty-six and unmarried. He had lived in London for two years and had come to the city for work.

  “Hey, have you been out dancing yet? Since you came to London, that is.” The young man, who had introduced himself as Rodney Martin, asked eagerly.

  “No, not since I arrived in London,” Rose replied. “But I love dancing. I really do. I’m not very good, but I think it’s fun. I used to go out with my friends from school sometimes back in New York.”

  “Hey, how would you like to go tonight? I know of a great place for dancing! It’s a little club over near Hyde Park.” Rodney’s enthusiasm filled Rose with excitement. Rodney was so different from quiet, serious Lionel. She glanced at Lionel, who still wore a sour expression on his face.

  “Yes, I’d love to!” Rose responded.

  “It’s a date,” said Rodney.

  Chapter Ten

  The more that Rose spoke to Rodney, the more she felt as if she had seen him before. There was something about his voice and the shape of his face, as well as the way his light hair fell over his eyes. His eyes were the palest blue she had ever seen.

  “You look so familiar to me,” Rose said to Rodney as they sat at the restaurant table, Lionel still sulking in silence. “I feel like I have seen you somewhere before.”

  “Have you ever been to Iowa?” Rodney asked.

  “Nope, never,” Rose replied.

  “Well, I don’t know, then,” Rodney told her. “I did go to New York once. For a week. I was visiting colleges. Maybe that’s it.”

  “Maybe,” Rose said with hesitation.

  Rose tried to forget about her questions about Rodney looking so familiar for now. Instead, she focused all of her attention on Rodney and how fascinating he was to her. He was so confident and forward. She liked that he had asked her out within a few minutes of their initial introduction. He seemed to have an adventurous spirit, and it was obvious that he was intelligent and had a terrific personality. In his confidence, he didn’t seem cocky. Rose liked that about him.

  As they continued talking, Lionel hardly spoke a word. After an hour, Rose suggested with hesitation that they should go because it was getting late. She and Rodney said a friendly good-bye, while Lionel mumbled his farewells. Lionel paid their check and they left. They walked along in silence toward the nearest Tube station.

  “You sure are quiet,” Rose said to Lionel.

  “Am I? Sorry,” he replied.

  “Well? What’s wrong?” Rose asked.

  “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t trust that guy.” Lionel responded.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” said Lionel. “I guess he just seemed too good to be true, I guess. He seems really forward and full of himself. He asked you out way too soon. He could be some crazy murderer for all you know.”

  Rose glared at Lionel. “Since when are you the final authority on when is an appropriate time to ask someone out?”

  “Okay, fine, I won’t give you advice.” Lionel’s voice showed his annoyance. “I just don’t think I like him.”

  “
Don’t tell me you’re jealous!” Rose said, half teasing.

  “I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?” Lionel quickly responded, his voice sounding defensive.

  “Well, because now I have a new friend. A friend besides you.”

  “You can have friends. You are a grown woman, you can do what you want.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, but you are definitely jealous.” Rose rolled her eyes.

  “Let’s not talk about it anymore. I’d rather not talk about him anymore.” Lionel made a face.

  “He has a name.”

  “Okay. Rupert. Whatever his name is.” Lionel’s voice was still filled with annoyance.

  “It’s Rodney,” said Rose.

  “Fine,” Lionel responded. “Rodney.”

  * * *

  That night, Rose dressed up and fixed her hair and make-up. Julie had loaned her a dress and had excitedly helped Rose to get ready as soon as she found out about the date. Julie even let Rose wear her crystal earrings and necklace, which glimmered when they caught the light. She arranged to take a cab to the Twelve O’clock Dance Club near Hyde Park. She was supposed to meet Rodney there at 8:00.

  “Why don’t I go with you and drop you off, and then come get you later?” Lionel suggested before she left.

  “Why? I’ll be able to find it.” Rose responded.

  “I just want to make sure you get there and back home safely,” Lionel told her.

  “Who are you, my older brother? I’m not Julie, you know. I can get there and back myself.” Rose said defensively.

  “I just don’t trust that guy,” Lionel said. “I know I already told you, but I’m just saying.”

  “There you go, being jealous again!” Rose responded said teasingly. “Please, don’t worry. I’ll be just fine. And don’t wait up for me.”

  “Okay, just be careful.”

  “Rodney is not a murderer!” Rose reassured Lionel with sarcasm in her voice. “Does he look like a murderer? Does he act like a murderer? No, I don’t think so. He is also not a thief, a stalker, or a kidnapper. Lionel, you sure are acting paranoid. It’ll all be fine. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

  “I’ve heard of guys who were charmers,” Lionel said. “They ask pretty girls out on dates. Then they kill them.”

  “Lionel, really!” Rose exclaimed. “You’ve been watching too many old Alfred Hitchcock films. You are overreacting!”

  “Okay, okay,” Lionel said in defeat. “And maybe I do watch too much Hitchcock. I like his movies. But I also want to be a journalist. So I’m naturally questioning everything.”

  Rose laughed off his worries and left when the cab arrived in front of the house. The drive took less than twenty minutes before she arrived at the club. Rose paid the driver and exited.

  Standing in front of the neon lights at the night club, Rose could feel her heart begin to flutter. I can’t wait to see Rodney again, she thought happily. She had arrived several minutes early, so she waited patiently beside the front door. The doorman glanced at her with curiosity, but said nothing.

  Rodney arrived minutes later, dressing even sharper than he had been earlier. He always looks so good! Rose thought with pleasure. I’m pretty lucky to get asked out by such an attractive guy after only being in London for a day! If only Mother could see me now.

  “You look amazing, Rose,” Rodney said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself,” Rose replied, feeling shy.

  Rodney placed his hand on the small of her back and led her inside. They entered a large room with a tall, painted ceiling and colored lights hanging from the ceiling. Popular music blared with a pair of large speakers and couples danced in the center. There were high top tables near the bar, which was where Rodney led Rose. Once seated, he ordered them champagne, and then martinis. They drank as they talked and glanced over the menu for an appetizer to share.

  Rose began to feel dizzy, but she got up and danced with Rodney anyway. He swung her across the floor and dipped her so that when she looked up, she could see the shimmering lights overhead. He whispered into her ear and she giggled. He twirled her until her head was spinning.

  “You are an awesome dancer!” she shouted over the loud music.

  “Thanks, Rose,” he replied.

  “You make me feel like I know what I’m doing, even though I haven’t danced too much before.”

  “That’s what a good dancer does. He leads his partner so she can do anything.” Rodney flashed his bright, radiant smile.

  They danced several more to several more songs. Rodney began to hold Rose closer, and Rose did not mind the warmth of his body against hers in the least. He whispered in her ear about how attractive he found her. Rose could not stop blushing at all his words, and she wanted to hear more of them. He stroked her back and kissed her forehead and cheeks. Rose felt warm inside. She had never been touched this way before.

  When they sat down, Rodney ordered more champagne. The bubbles floated toward the ceiling and the glasses began to look fuzzy. Rose blinked her eyes.

  “I shouldn’t have any more,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “Nonsense,” said Rodney. “Enjoy yourself. You deserve to have a good time.”

  Rose’s head was spinning. It began to ache and she pressed her palm against it. She was beginning to feel a little nauseous.

  “Please,” she said. “I’m starting to feel a little sick.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rodney apologized, concern on his face. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have ordered you so much. Gosh, what was I thinking? You don’t normally drink, do you?”

  “It’s fine, it’s fine,” Rose reassured him, blushing. “But no, I don’t normally drink.”

  “How old are you, Rose?” Rodney asked, his voice still sounding concerned.

  “I’m eighteen,” Rose told him, lifting her head from her hand and sitting up straight in her chair.

  “Oh, wow,” he replied, his voice filled with surprise. “I’m sorry, I thought you were at least twenty-one.”

  “Do you wish you hadn’t asked me out now?” Rose asked with disappointment. Great, she thought. My perfect date is ruined.

  “Oh, no, not at all!” Rodney reassured her. “To me, age is just a number. I like you a lot, Rose. I’ve had a great time tonight. I just feel really bad that I gave you all those drinks and made you sick.”

  “It’s okay,” Rose told him. Feeling suddenly sick again, she leaned her head on her hand.

  “Here, now, let me take you home,” Rodney offered, putting his arm around her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she said, mortified at how their lovely night was ending.

  “Don’t mention it,” he said.

  What happened next all seemed to be a blur to Rose as Rodney led her outside, hailed a cab, and helped her to get situated inside the car. He held her as they rode along in the back seat. Rose appreciated the warmth of him beside her. He stroked her hair until they arrived in front of the Douglass home.

  “I don’t want to say good-bye,” she whispered to him.

  “I don’t either,” he said. He kissed her forehead.

  When Rose got inside, Lionel was waiting for her on a chair near the front door, a frown on his face. He led her upstairs to the sitting room and helped her to a floral sofa. He shut the sitting room door.

  “You’re drunk,” he muttered, disgust in his voice.

  “So what if I am?” Rose said in defiance.

  “It’s not so much that you are, but that you were out drunk with a perfect stranger. It’s a miracle you even arrived safely at home.” His voice was disapproving.

  “I’ve gotten to know Rodney more and more tonight, and he’s so caring. I trust him completely.” Rose shot back in his defense.

  “How can you trust someone you hardly know?”

  “See, you are jealous!” Rose said. “I’ve known you a couple days longer than I’ve known Rodney. So how can I trust you?”

  “Okay, okay
, you’re right. But I thought we were friends.” He paused. “I thought we were becoming pretty good friends,” Lionel added.

  “We are,” said Rose. “But Rodney and I have something special. Something… well, we are more than friends.”

  Lionel frowned. He seemed about to say something, but he didn’t speak. “Have a good night, Rose,” Lionel said. “I hope you sleep well.” He turned away and walked down the hall.

  Rose dizzily made her way to her bedroom without a word. At the door, she paused and glanced down the hall as Lionel disappeared around a corner. She shook her head and opened her bedroom door.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning, Rodney called Rose at the Douglass house to see how she was feeling. Her heart began to beat fast when she heard his voice on the line. She smiled and twisted the phone cord around her finger.

  “I feel much better,” she assured him. “Thanks for asking.”

  “Oh, good,” Rodney said to her, his voice filled with relief. “I was really worried about you.”

  “Aw, that’s really sweet,” Rose cooed.

  “Hey, want to hang out sometime this weekend?” Rodney asked, his voice sounding eager. “I want to see you again.”

  “I’d love that,” Rose told him. “This afternoon I’m going with Lionel and Julie to the Tower of London. Wanna come?”

  “That sounds terrific,” Rodney enthused. “What time?”

  “Want to meet us here at Lionel and Julie’s house at noon?” Rose suggested.

  “Sure, sounds great.”

  “Do you want to write down the address?”

  “No,” he replied. “I remember how to get there.”

  “Okay, great. Bye, Rodney!”

  Rose hung up the phone and hurried down the hallway to Julie’s room. She eagerly knocked on the door and Julie opened the door within seconds.

  “Guess who is coming with us today to the Tower of London!” Rose squealed.

  “Who? Who?” Julie asked breathlessly. “Wait, is it Rodney?”

  “Yes!” Rose cried. Her eyes grew wide and she grinned.